Black Duty
by Espoir Noir
Summary: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black has many stories. And many secrets. Charis Black must choose between the desires of her heart, and the necessities of her duty.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter.

**A** **/N: **This story was born out of a piece I wrote for the Reviews Lounge Valentine's Day Challenge, so I apologise for any similarities. While the majority of the characters are not mentioned in the books, they appear on the Black Family Tapestry which was drawn by J.K. Rowling as a donation to Book Aid International. On this version on the tapestry, Charis Black is the youngest grand-daughter of Phineas Nigellus Black and Ursula Flint.

**Prologue**

**August 31****st****, 1928**

Highthorn House was quiet, its curtains drawn against the night. Somewhere in the trees an owl hooted, a haunting sound in the moonlight. All the occupants of the manor were asleep, except for two.

"I brought chocolate", whispered Ella, scared that someone might hear them. Charis giggled softly and there was a rustling as they peeled off the wrapping in the dark. They sat cross-legged on Charis' bed, facing each other despite the lack of light.

"It's not forever", said Ella suddenly.

Charis didn't reply. She'd forgotten for a moment what was happening tomorrow, caught up in their midnight ritual.

"I'll be back at Christmas", said Ella, almost pleading now. "And it won't be long before you'll be at Hogwarts too", she lied, knowing that the two years would be excruciatingly long.

"It's not the same", said Charis, and her voice was tight.

Ella frowned, not sure what to say to appease her younger sister.

"I'll always be there for you", she said softly.

"Always?"

"I promise. I won't ever really leave you."

Charis looked at her sister, Ella's blue eyes gleaming with sincerity. Charis held out her hand.

"Do you swear?" she asked.

"On the tapestry", said Ella solemnly, naming the most ancient of the Black heirlooms.

Charis nodded, satisfied. Nobody broke a promise sworn on the tapestry.


	2. An End

**An End**

**August 20****th****, 1936**

There was silence in the drawing room. Nobody so much as breathed. Charis had a horrible feeling in her stomach, as if she was going to be sick. She knew that her life was about to change. That the next words her father spoke would destroy her childhood and force her into the cruel, harsh world of adults.

"Leave."

Her father's voice was low, but firm. He had made up his mind. Not that there had ever really been a choice.

"Please, Father", Ella was begging, tears running down her face.

"You made your decision, Cedrella. Now I have made mine."

"Please, reconsider." It was a mark of her strength that she attempted to argue with her father. Arcturus Black was not the sort of man one argued with.

"Will _you_ reconsider?"

Ella looked down for a moment.

"No", she said softly.

"Then neither will I."

"I'm your daughter!" she cried desperately.

Arcturus stood.

"No daughter of mine would marry a traitor", he hissed, his eyes blazing.

Ella collapsed on the floor, sobbing. Arcturus swept from the room, stepping over her as if she didn't exist.

After a few minutes, she looked up, her eyes red.

"Mama?" she asked, tentatively. But Lysandra just shook her head.

"We must do what is best", she told her daughter, before elegantly following her husband.

And so it was only the two of them left. For once, Charis wished that Dora was there. Dora, who was always perfect, always knew what was right. But it was only the two of them.

Ella sat facing the wall, sobs shaking her body. Charis watched her for a moment, wondering when she had last seen her sister cry.

"You promised", said Charis bitterly.

Ella turned, surprised that Charis hadn't left.

"You promised", said Charis again, this time with anger. "You swore on the tapestry!"

A look of horror settled on Ella's face.

"Charis, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, I didn't mean to hurt anyone, I just…I couldn't -"

"You couldn't _what,_ Ella? You couldn't stand to live in this house another moment? Well, you've certainly accomplished that."

"I love him, Charis", she said softly.

"Oh, you _love_ him. How beautiful. Let's all hug and make up shall we? He's a _Weasley_, Ella! A blood-traitor! You've ruined our family! Our life!"

"You'll survive without me", she said, although she sounded a little unsure.

"Well, that changes everything doesn't it?"

They were silent. Ella didn't have anything to say to that.

"You were supposed to stay", said Charis after a while, her voice choked. "You _promised_ you'd stay."

"Cherry, I'm so sorry."

Ella was crying again.

"I'll never see you again, will I?"

"Yes…" Ella seemed to realise she shouldn't make any more promises that she couldn't keep. "Probably not", she whispered.

"I thought you were different", said Charis. "I thought you loved me."

"I do love you, with all my heart."

"Then stay."

"I can't."

"You can't, or you won't?"

"Both."

Charis nodded, as if she understood. But she didn't think she'd ever understand.

"When's the wedding?" she asked.

"I don't know. I thought…I thought perhaps this wouldn't happen. I thought perhaps they'd be happy for me. So we were going to wait and see."

Charis imagined Ella planning it all out. Ever since they were little, Ella had been planning her wedding. A huge event, in the garden, with all the roses in bloom. Well, that was never going to happen now.

There were footsteps in the hall.

"I have to go", said Charis.

Ella nodded.

They didn't hug.

"Goodbye", said Charis.

"Goodbye", whispered Ella.

Charis couldn't believe she'd never see her again. Ella had been her best friend for so many years. With their father at work, and their mother constantly entertaining guests, it had only been the two of them. Of course, there was Dora. But Dora was never any fun, and more often than not she'd be cooped up in the library with her latest book.

Charis hesitated at the door.

"I'll miss you", she said quietly.

"I'll miss you too."

She held Ella's eyes for a moment, trying to memorise her features. Her startling blue eyes, her long, rosy cheeks. Her lips that were so often curved into a smile. Her brown, curly hair that she was forever attempting to tame. Charis wondered how soon it would be that she would forget it all.

She smiled briefly, but Ella only managed another sob. They both knew that this was the end.

**A/N: **Thank-you for reading this far! I'd really appreciate any comments or thoughts you have on the story so far, and constructive criticism is always encouraged. This is my first chapter fic, so I'd love to know what you think. Thank-you again!


	3. A Birthday

**A Birthday**

**August 22****nd****, 1936**

Her birthday was ruined. Charis blamed it all on Ella. Only inwardly of course, because as far as the Black family was concerned, Ella didn't exist.

Charis had watched from the door as her uncle Cygnus had burned Ella from the tapestry. She remembered when they were younger and they had traced the gold threads with their fingers, wondering whose name would one day rest beside theirs. When she was six she had watched in awe as the words 'Lucretia, 1925' had magically embroidered themselves underneath 'Arcturus' and 'Melania McMillan'.But no gold line would ever connect with 'Cedrella, 1917'. All that remained was a blackened hole and the faint scent of charred cloth.

Her cousin Dorea sat beside her on the stairs. They were quiet as they listened to the shouting coming from the study.

"This has nothing to do with you, Cygnus! She was my daughter, and I will deal with her!"

Charis winced ever so slightly at his use of past tense. The cut was still raw.

"I'm not talking about dealing with _her,_ Arcturus! I'm talking about dealing with the press!"

"Do you think I haven't thought about that?!"

"Well you certainly haven't _done_ anything about it!"

"What is there to do?! The damage is done!"

"Pull some strings! Make them print an apology! Do whatever you must to ensure that _our_ name is not besmirched by such filth!"

Arcturus dropped his voice, and the girls had to lean closer to hear what was being said.

"I'm not the only one whose family has been besmirched by filth", he said.

There was silence. Charis looked at Dorea questioningly, and immediately wished she hadn't. Dorea's face had gone white, her hand held to her mouth.

"That filth has been eradicated", said Cygnus, and his voice was dangerous.

"Rather convenient that you were working in the records department at the time, wasn't it?"

"It has nothing to do with convenience. I did what was necessary. And now you have to."

"You don't need to lecture me, Cygnus. This isn't another Phineas."

"Make sure it isn't."

There was the sound of movement, and the girls hurriedly retreated to the sunroom. When Cygnus entered a few minutes later, they were lounging languidly on a couch, apparently discussing the benefits of a new style of dress robes.

"Time to leave", said Cygnus gruffly, and his youngest daughter obeyed instantly.

"Happy Birthday", whispered Dorea, kissing her cousin on the cheek.

"Thank-you."

"I'll see you on the first."

Charis nodded, suddenly dreading going back to Hogwarts.

She gazed out the window, only distantly hearing the door slamming and the pop as her relatives disapparated. She'd been looking forward to being seventeen for so long. As the second youngest of all her cousins she was always treated like a child. She couldn't count the number of times she'd been excluded or sent to bed early because she 'wasn't old enough.' Being seventeen was supposed to change all that. But it hadn't. Instead all she had was more secrets, and an empty feeling in her heart. The night before she'd woken up at midnight, and strained her ears for the sound of soft footsteps in the hall outside. But none had come, and with a jolt, she'd realised they never would again. She wondered if she'd ever get used to that jolt. If she'd ever get used to the fact that Ella was gone.

But she wasn't supposed to think that. She was supposed to believe that Ella had never been there in the first place.

The sound of flapping disrupted her thoughts and she looked up to see a large, brown owl hovering over her head.

"Plato!" she cried, delighted. He hooted, and landed on the arm of the couch. Carefully, Charis untied the parcel he was carrying.

_Dear Charis_, read the note inside. _Happy Birthday! Can't believe you're seventeen (although it's about time). Hope you have an amazing birthday and a magical year. See you soon, Lucille. _

Charis scratched her eye, and was surprised to discover her finger came away wet. Hurriedly, she tore the paper off the present. It was a silver necklace, gleaming in the late afternoon sun that was currently streaming through the windows. A large, jade, 'C' hung delicately in the centre. Three days ago, Charis would have thought it was beautiful. But now, it just seemed like a silly trinket. Exactly the sort of thing that flashy Lucille would wear. 

She put it aside and gazed out the window again. She was seventeen. She could do magic outside school. She could go for her apparition test. She was an adult. But all she wanted was for everything to go back to the way it was before. She wanted to be sixteen again.


	4. A Return

**A Return**

**September 1****st****, 1936**

Charis sat in a compartment by herself. She was early. For once, she hadn't had to wait as Ella had torn around the house, shoving last minute things into her trunk, reassuring them all that she'd only be a minute. Even last year, when Ella had finished at Hogwarts, she'd still managed to hold them all up, insisting on coming to say goodbye. Her parents hadn't bothered to come to the station this year. They hadn't said that, of course, but it amounted to the same thing. Charis shouldn't have been surprised. Even though Ella wasn't supposed to exist anymore, she still managed to be the centre of attention.

Right at the moment, she hated Ella. It was Ella's fault that there were currently several students whispering outside her compartment door. It was Ella's fault that any parent who caught a glimpse of her through the window hurriedly whispered last minute instructions to their children. It was Ella's fault that Lucille Macmillan and Octavia Parkinson were still standing on the platform, not sure whether to sit with her or not. And it was Ella's fault that not a single boy had offered to carry her trunk for her, something that had occurred every year she'd been at Hogwarts.

She tucked a strand of ebony hair behind her ear. It was often said that Charis was beautiful. Dora was pretty, and Ella had stunning eyes, but she, Charis, was beautiful. She'd always felt that it made her special, unique. But today she didn't want to be special. She didn't want to stand out. She just wanted to be standing in the corridor, gossiping about somebody else's sister.

The train began to move off the platform, and Charis felt the nausea in her stomach grow. All too soon she would have to face the other students, deal with her snickering and judgements, and defend her family name. She wondered if Lucille and Octavia would sit with her. She doubted it. If it had been on of them whose sister had run off with such filth, she wasn't sure that she would sit with them.

The compartment door slid open slowly, and Charis looked around to see Abraxus Malfoy leaning casually in the entrance. His dark blonde hair fell stylishly over his face, and his expression suggested an arrogance that Charis knew was reflected in his personality. Not that she minded. When one was as rich as Abraxus Malfoy, one was perfectly entitled to be arrogant.

"So, Black, is it true?" He spoke slowly, enunciating each word perfectly. "Did your sister _really_ run off with that waste of a wizard Weasley?" He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. Though his broad shoulders took up most of the doorway, Charis could still see the other students crowding behind him, desperate to hear her reply. This was a test, and for a family's sake she must not fail.

"A _Weasley_? Do you really think my family would associate with such filth? I only have one sister, Malfoy, and the last I heard she was happily married to Harfang Longbottom."

She hated herself for saying that. Hated herself because she had loved her sister. But hated herself more because she felt good denouncing Ella so publicly.

"I'm glad to hear that, Black. I wouldn't want to think the reputation of the British purebloods had been stained in any way." And ever so slowly he straightened, and strolled away down the corridor.

Charis slumped down in her seat, ignoring the excited mutterings outside the compartment. She should have expected this. She had, in a way. She just hadn't expected to feel quite like this.

"Charis?"

Charis sat up, attempting to mould her face into a casual expression. It was Lucille and Octavia, both looking rather anxious. Charis just smiled. She must not, under any circumstances, appear troubled. She was Charis Black, carefree and entirely glad to be rid of her meddlesome sister.

"Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" asked Charis, as the two girls carefully took a seat opposite her.

"Lovely", said Lucille, and her voice had only the slightest quaver.

"Did you have a nice holiday?" inquired Charis, and smiled inwardly as they began to relax. Perhaps things would be back to normal faster than she'd thought.

* * *

That night Charis lay on her bed, listening to the other four girls catching up on all the gossip. It was easier at Hogwarts to pretend everything was alright. She wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night and expect to see Ella. And she wasn't so alone at Hogwarts. When she concentrated she could even lose herself in the discussion going on, listen to what they were saying and pretend to herself that she was interested. Hogwarts was like a second home. Without the silence and the anger that seemed to fill up all the crevices at Highthorn House. She felt safe at Hogwarts.

Earlier, she'd watched the Sorting Ceremony with a strange kind of distance. She'd expected to feel slightly sad, but instead she could only be relieved that the two Black children in their first year had both been Sorted into Slytherin. Walburga, of course, had been a Slytherin from the minute she was born, but Lucretia was a happier, brighter sort of child, not your average Slytherin. Not that there was anything average about Slytherins.

But Charis was glad that the day hadn't yielded any more disappointments for the Black family. Glad that for the moment she could pretend to be happy, and ignore her sister's betrayal. And as she drifted into the fogginess of sleep, Charis felt a strange peace settle over her. Drowsily, she thought that perhaps she might be truly happy again, that perhaps it wouldn't be so difficult after all to forget her favourite sister.

* * *

**A/N: **Thank-you so much for reading this far, and for the suggestions and critiques left in reviews, it is very heartening to receive them all. A couple of things I wanted to say briefly. The first is that I'm leaving to go overseas in two days and I have no idea how regularly I'll have access to e-mail, or how much time I'll have to write, so I apologise in advance if I can't update as soon as I have been doing. The second thing is really a sidenote, but it is my understanding that Tom Riddle started at Hogwarts in 1936. At this stage, I don't think I'll mention him, as I'm focusing on Charis, but let me know what you think… 


	5. An Insult

**A/N:** My sincerest apologies that this has taken so long to update. I'm in France at the moment, and have been for the last four months, and what with everything here, and my pitiable lack of internet access…So, sorry. The change in characters (in the blurb thing) is to try and attract more readers. Sorry for lying.

**An Insult**

**September 9****th****, 1936**

Charis entered the library, a bundle of parchment and textbooks clutched against her chest, feeling rather uncomfortable. It was not the way she was used to feeling, as she considered herself a confident, popular person, able to handle almost any situation. But the library was not her usual territory. And she couldn't remember the last time she'd been here by herself.

Lucille and Octavia were in the Slytherin common room, discussing the advantages of English wizards versus French ones. Normally she'd be more than happy to join in, but lately she'd been finding it all a bit trivial. So she'd left, using her enormous pile of homework as an excuse. If she was honest with herself, she knew that things had changed between them all. It was Ella's fault, but they were more wary of her, and not quite as warm as they once had been. It wasn't just them either. She noticed the way people looked at her when she entered the classroom, the way they whispered when she slid onto the table at breakfast. But it would pass. She was a Black, and in the end people would remember that.

She looked around the library. Every table was occupied. It seemed as if she wasn't the only one who'd spent too much of the first week catching up on her social life, and not enough on homework. Well, she'd just have to sit with somebody else. She glanced around, trying to see someone she knew.

There were only three tables of Slytherins. Two were groups of first years looking rather petrified by their workload, and the third was several fifth year girls who seemed to be trying to attract the attention of a table of Ravenclaw boys. There was no chance she was sitting with them.

So that left somebody in Ravenclaw, as she was not in the habit of associating with Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors. Luckily, the library seemed to be virtually a second common room for Ravenclaws. Mentally she crossed off all the first, second, third, and fourth years, all the muggleborns, all the tables already full, all the people she knew to be unbelievably boring, and anybody who was looking at her strangely. This left her with….Charlus Potter.

Charlus Potter. Head Boy, model student even for a Ravenclaw, keeper for his House Quidditch team (and held wholly responsible for Slytherin's loss in the championship the previous year), charming, witty, handsome, and a pureblood. She had two classes with him, but she couldn't think of a single time she'd ever had a proper conversation with him about something other than homework.

"No time like the present", she said to herself, and taking a deep breath walked over to his table.

"Mr. Potter? Do you mind if I sit here?"

He laid down his pen, and looked up at her, his light brown curls flopping in front of his chocolate eyes.

"Not at all. But I really wish you'd call me Charlus. We _have_ been at school together for over six years."

She hid her smile with a practised flair.

"Only if you call me Charis."

"Nothing would please me more."

He grinned at her, and Charis suddenly understood why so many girls fell in love with him.

"Are you working on the Transfiguration essay?" he asked as she unpacked her books.

"Among other things. I sort of forgot about homework last week."

"I know what you mean."

"I don't believe you. Charlus Potter, not doing his homework?"

"I'm not as perfect as you think, you know."

"Who said I thought you were perfect?"

She raised an eyebrow, proud to think she'd caught him out.

"Reading minds is one of my many talents", he said with a grin.

The problem was that he was right.

"And what do you do when you're not reading minds?"

"My homework, of course."

"Of course", she mocked, and for a moment she thought that this was what it would be like to have real friends. Lucille and Octavia were both very nice, but she couldn't imagine joking with them the way she was with Charlus. They wouldn't understand.

Carefully she began to ink her quill, trying not to care whether or not her hair was in place.

"So", he said, "What brings you to the library?"

"Homework", she said, thinking it was rather evident.

"Obviously, Charis. But I meant, why the library? I don't think I've seen you in here before, and I come fairly frequently."

"Oh. Well, the common room was too noisy."

He raised an eyebrow and she knew he didn't believe her. But what was she supposed to say? That she found her friends a bit immature, and that everybody else seemed to be avoiding her? Not one of her favourite conversation openers.

"And you?" she asked, not having anything else to say.

He shrugged.

"Its easier if I need to look something up. And I can concentrate better here. And I guess…" He hesitated. "I guess here I don't have to put up with my friends discussing the latest Quidditch statistics either."

He looked back down at his parchment hurriedly, and began to scribbling across the page. She regarded him for a moment.

"I know what you mean."

He looked up.

"Sometimes I get sick of hearing about the latest dress robes too."

He looked surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"Oh", he said quickly, "I didn't mean it like that, I just meant -"

"It's alright. I understand. You didn't think there could ever be more to Charis Black than her gang of friends and the latest piece of gossip."

She stood up and began packing her books away. It had all been too good to be true.

"And here I was thinking Charlus Potter was different from the rest. But no, just like everybody else the only reason you're interested in me is because my sister ran off with some blood traitor scum."

"That's not true. Charis –" He put his hand on her arm to stop her as she turned to leave.

"Don't you dare touch me", she hissed. "Don't you ever dare touch me. You think you're so high and mighty, but you're no different to anyone else."

He drew his hand away, and his expression was what one might have called hurt. Charis was past caring. She wanted to run from the library, but that would not have been very dignified, so she settled for a haughty march.

Of course, by this stage, most of the other students in the library had heard what was going on and were watching, eager for more gossip. Wonderful, thought Charis. Let's give everybody another reason to hate me. It was Ella's voice in her mind that told her she was being overly dramatic. And she detested that.


	6. A Fight or Two

**A Fight (or Two)**

**  
September 10****th****, 1936**

Charis was determined to continue as usual. If the treachery of her sister hadn't worried her, then neither would the insults of a certain Head Boy. Of course, this was all very well in theory, but putting it into practice was somewhat harder.

Lucille and Octavia cornered her the next day, at lunchtime. She was surprised it had taken them that long to hear the gossip.

"Is it true?" asked Lucille taking a seat beside her on the Slytherin table.

"Is what true?"

Lucille rolled her eyes at Octavia, who was seated on Charis' left.

"That you yelled at Charlus Potter in front of half the school."

"No, of course not," replied Charis calmly.

"Oh," said Octavia, disappointed. Lucille wasn't so easily tricked.

"Then what _did_ happen?"

"Nothing," said Charis. A glare from Lucille forced her to change her mind. "Alright. He called me a stupid gossiper, and I said he was too high and mighty for his own good. And we were in the library, so clearly it wasn't half the school. Although it may have been all of Ravenclaw. But it's not important anyway." Charis resumed sipping at her pumpkin juice.

"What nerve!" said Octavia, outraged on behalf of her friend.

"Did he really call you that?" asked Lucille, with a strange look of fascination on her face.

"Well, no," admitted Charis. "But he implied it. Which is just as bad. He is the rudest, most arrogant boy I have ever met."

Neither of the girls agreed with her, but they didn't contradict her either. Slytherins stick together, regardless of past differences.

"Who is the rudest, most arrogant boy you have ever met?" asked a smooth voice behind Charis.

She turned to find Abraxus Malfoy and his three friends standing rather threateningly behind her.

"Couldn't be you she was talking about, Malfoy?" said William Slater in mock horror.

"Surely not," said Malfoy, raising an eyebrow at Charis.

"No. Because I would have had to add slimy somewhere in there too," said Charis, not phased.

"How rude," was all Malfoy said, but she could tell he was amused.

"Pray tell then, Miss Black, who was it you were complimenting so highly?" asked Rupert Longbottom from Malfoy's other side.

"Charlus Potter," she said grimly.

"Surely not our esteemed Head Boy?" Malfoy, grinned as his friends laughed. A fight had been brewing between Malfoy and Potter ever since Abraxus had been passed over for Head Boy. Not that Charlus could help it, but Malfoy was hardly likely to pick a fight with the Headmaster.

"That's the one," said Charis.

"He called her a stupid little gossiper," said Lucille, choosing to ignore the fact that Charis had already denied this.

"Did he now?" Malfoy's expression was now slightly more menacing.

"Humiliated her in front of half the school," said Lucille.

"Rude indeed," said Slater.

"Well, we can't have that," said Malfoy, and the others nodded, seeming to know exactly what he was thinking. Horace Slughorn was even grinding his knuckles suggestively.

"No," said Charis in a sudden panic. "Pleas don't. Not for my sake anyway."

"Don't worry, Miss Black," said Longbottom, "We'll do it on behalf of all young ladies at Hogwarts."

And with that they strolled off towards the Ravenclaw house table. Charis groaned. So much for staying out of the spotlight.

It took three professors and two well-directed shield charms to keep the fight from becoming an all-out brawl. As it was, Charlus was given a black eye, and three other Ravenclaws along with Slughorn were sent to the hospital wing. Slater boasted later they'd all been given detentions for three weeks, and Malfoy had almost had his prefectship taken away from him. Charlus had escaped punishment because his classmates had managed to hold him back before he could take a swing at Malfoy.

Charis was glad that the fight had redirected the school's attention towards Malfoy and his friends, rather than her. Potter, however, seemed to know exactly who was to blame for the escalating rumours.

He cornered her after their double Charms class.

"Are you happy now?" he asked, his handsome features marred by the anger on his face. "Got what you want?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Charis, managing to keep her mild shock from expressing itself.

"Of course you do, Black." Clearly they were no longer on first name terms. "The whole school now thinks I insulted you, what I actually called you changes every minute, and thanks to your Slytherin lackeys I'm now apparently a coward into the bargain because I refused their offer of a midnight duel!"

Charis hadn't heard that yet. She was surprised Malfoy was taking it so far. Or perhaps he'd known Charlus would refuse. Head Boys don't usually go around stunning people every night.

"I have no control over the thoughts of the whole school," replied Charis, "And I also was not aware that I had any lackeys. Although if Ravenclaws continue to corner me in Charms classrooms, perhaps I should hire some." Charlus took a step back, apparently realising how close to her he was.

"Thank-you," said Charis, and attempted to manoeuvre her way past him. But he wasn't letting her go quite so easily.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" he asked, blocking her escape.

"No, that would be you, Mister-walking-advertisement-for-Ravenclaw."

He ignored her. "I'm not fooled. Nobody loses their sister the way you did and doesn't feel any emotion whatsoever. You can pretend to everybody else that you don't care, but you can't pretend to me, Black."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, aware that it was far from a clever retort. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have an Arithmancy class to attend."

"One day you'll regret it, Black," he said, stepping aside to let her pass. "One day you'll wish you'd acted like a normal human being."

"I'll be sure to send you an owl when I do," she called over her shoulder, wondering how the conversation had turned to her sister so quickly. And why out of all the people who could have seen past her pretence, it had to have been him.


	7. A Match

**A Match**

**September 24****th**

Two weeks had passed since The Incident, as Charis now called it in her mind, and most people appeared to have forgotten about it. Malfoy and Charlus were the exceptions, shooting glares at each other, and in Charlus' case at her, whenever they were within viewing distance.

The only good outcome of it all, as far as Charis could see, was that this scandal had wiped out the first one, and as soon as people forgot about that all together, the better. Lucille too, seemed much more at ease with her, perhaps because scandals to do with boys she could understand.

And so, Charis settled back into school. The amount of pressure the N.E.W.T.S placed on seventh years increased their workload, and forced Charis to do homework where before she would have been more likely to make excuses. She didn't bemoan the fact, as she was glad to have something other than Charlus and Ella to occupy her mind. And when that strategy gave out, there was always Quidditch.

The first match of the season had arrived and tensions were as high as the occasion allowed. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. It was clear than none of last years angst had been forgotten, and the build-up was marked by the usual inter-house violence, spiked pumpkin juices, threatening owls, charmed broomsticks and anything else that could be thought up. Also as usual, Slytherin was subject to triple the insults and jeers as Gryffindor and Hufflepuff sided with Ravenclaw.

A rousing speech had been given by Malfoy, this years Quidditch Captain, the night before, urging them to victory as payback for the humiliation of the previous year. Even Charis had cheered as he stepped down from the armchair that was his makeshift stage.

The day dawned cold, but sunny, and Octavia was annoying everybody by trying to work out whether this was to their advantage or not. Charis didn't bother telling her that seeing as how both teams were playing in the same conditions it wouldn't be an advantage to either team. Although if it had been raining, Slytherin could probably have used wands in the poor visibility, which Ravenclaw would never stoop to.

Charis, Lucille, and Octavia were joined in their seats by Horace Slughorn, who was more interested in watching Quidditch than playing it. Charis would have liked to have been on the team herself, but even though girls had been allowed to play at Hogwarts for well over fifty years, many families forbade their children. The Blacks were one of them. In fact, out of the four house teams, only two had female members. Hufflepuff, who had a girl chaser, and Ravenclaw. They had a girl seeker. It had of course made things infinitely worse for Slytherin's seeker to be beaten by a girl. But Malfoy was leading the team this year, and things would be different.

"On my whistle!" shouted Professor March, the referee. The crowd fell silent. The tension in the air was sharp. And then they were off, seven bright flashes of green matched by seven bright flashes of blue. The red blur of the quaffle moved so quickly it was almost impossible to follow. Malfoy to Slater, Slater to Finch, Finch to Malfoy, Malfoy intercepted by Ravenclaw's Hughes. Hughes to Gordon, Gordon back to Hughes, Hughes knocked out by Longbottom's bludger. Slater with the quaffle. Slater to Malfoy, Malfoy to Finch, Finch to Malfoy. And so it continued, Slater making the first attempt at goal, stopped easily by Potter.

The whole crowd seemed to be holding its breath as one, waiting for the first point to be scored. Even Lucille, who usually chatted through every match regardless of who was playing, was on the edge of her seat. The commentator, a Hufflepuff boy, was almost silent, too wrapped in the game to even speak. Every so often he would realise where he was, and throw in a few comments. But nobody needed him to say anything when Ravenclaw's Gordon snuck the Quaffle into the goals. Three quarters of the stadium was on its feet, cheering. Only the green mass of Slytherins was silent. Suddenly, this all looked too much like last year's final.

And then Malfoy scored, and hope was rejuvenated. They were back in the game.

There was no sign of the snitch, and indeed it appeared to have been forgotten, so intense were the actions of the other twelve players. The chasers seemed to have improved their game by double, in order to outwit the opposing team. The beaters were ferocious, a Ravenclaw member the first casualty. And the keepers were concentrating so hard their brooms were completely still, all thoughts of intimidation discarded.

"Slytherin – seventy. Ravenclaw – ninety", yelled the commentator, about an hour into the match. It was the snitch that would settle it. Both teams were scoring almost on par with each other, determined to win. As quickly as Ravenclaw made it past the Slytherin keeper, Slytherin would score.

The match lasted for five hours. It was not the longest game Hogwarts had ever seen, but it might as well have been. Ravenclaw had scraped a decent lead, four hundred and twenty to three hundred and fifty. But the snitch had been sighted, and it was Slytherin's Longbottom who brought it crashing back to earth.

A roar filled the pitch as every member of the winning house was on their feet, stamping and cheering. Longbottom was engulfed by his team members, and then by the rest of Slytherin as Professor March let them out of the stands.

Charis felt tears running down her cheeks, and she was embracing people she'd never spoken to before. She couldn't even see Longbottom to give him her congratulations, but then William Slater was in front of her, and she was wrapped in a bear hug.

"Well done", she said into his ear, unsure if he would hear her even then.

And then he kissed her.

For a moment Charis hesitated. But over his shoulder she saw the Ravenclaw team standing dejectedly. And Charlus looked like he might silently curse her.

So she kissed him back.


End file.
